


The Thundermen In The Nether

by confused_carmine



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Anxiety Attacks, Crying, Going to Hell, Hell, Hellhounds, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Men Crying, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26280610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confused_carmine/pseuds/confused_carmine
Summary: i rewrote the hell scene from argo's pov but he doesnt shit himself
Relationships: Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg & Argo Keene, Master Firbolg & Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	The Thundermen In The Nether

Argo hadn't expected hell to be like...this. He didn't expect the definition of a migraine, he didn't expect to have a meltdown.

As soon as Argo stepped through the rip in the fabric of existence, he was overwhelmed—very, very overwhelmed. Where these shapes, and colors? What was even happening, where was he?

Argo fell onto his knees only a few steps in, tangling his fingers in his hair just to feel something. His veins felt like fire, his skin felt as though it were melting and his insides were boiling hot lava, building up behind his throat, and then in his head, behind his eyes, ringing and swishing loudly in his ears. Argo closed his eyes tight, because anywhere he looked made his mind hurt. Not to mention, he felt itchy—his clothes hugged his skin in an uncomfirtable way and it felt like friction over a horrid sunburn. It felt as though fire ants but into his skin, all over his arms and back and hands.

Fitzroy turned to look behind him and saw Argo on the ground mid-panic attack, laying on his side, on the ground, and attempting to curl up into a small ball.

"Argo, Argo, come now, hold— hold onto my belt loop, okay? Argo, come on," Fitzroy ushered. As much as he cared for the mental stability of his friend, they needed to get through hell fast or they might be dog food.

Argo couldn't hear Fitzroy, he was chin-deep in his own panic. His entire body burned, he felt like he was caught in a fire. "M' gonna...puke..." Argo said, his voice small and breathless. He could feel Fitzroy's hands on him, on his wrists and arms, and it made the pain through his skin flare like a wildfire.

Tears rolled down Argo's cheeks, but he didn't notice. He didn't notice Fitzroy trying to pull him up, or Jackal trying to calm his nerves, he didn't notice the firbolg scoop him up and begin walking quickly with him. The movement made him feel sick, though, so he curled in on himself to block out everything—the ringing, the shapes, the colors, the pain.

If Argo had to describe this experience in one word, it would, ironically, be hell—he felt like he was on death's door, and this wouldn't be the first time, considering the imp-imfested hospital and the chain demon—but this was different. At the hospital, death felt like something he could slip into, like a deep, promising sleep, it was cold and warm, comforting and scary, all at once, but all those emotions and feelings were a subconscious to him.

But now, those were all in the forefront of his mind, screaming at him like wailing children, piercing his ears and wearing him thin. Death no longer felt like a flower bed, it felt like hands wrapped around him and pulled him down painfully, grabbed him by his neck and his legs and his hands and pulled him into a horrible, painful experience that was all too much to handle. 

Argo was crying harder now, but he was quiet about it. He had his own hair in a death grip, he could feel some of the long blue hairs coming undone from his scalp but he hardly registered it over the screaming in his own head. 

And even when they were out, Argo felt like he was still there, mentally and physically. His skin still burnt, his blood still boiled, and his head was still back in hell. He saw it too, the shapes and the colors, all muddling his brain impossibly deep, so much that it had him crying, scrambling into a wall, into a corner, and curling up.

Meanwhile, Heironymus was handing out canteens of water, and he paused when he saw Argo. He knew what was happening, he'd seen this before—hell, he's been there—but this was a pretty bad case, considering that the genasi seemingly couldn't even talk.

Once Marie stepped through the portal, helping Mosh through, she stopped at the sight of Argo. "Could one of you boys be kind enough to help him to my headquarters?"

Fitzroy got up from the ground, capping his now-empty canteen and scooping Argo into his arms with ease, who curled in on himself the moment he was off the ground. He was murmuring something, rushed and panicked but so quiet, and it made Fitzroy frown.

"Argo, can you hear me?" Fitzroy said, but nothing changed, and Argo didn't respond.

Argo did hear Fitzroy oh so faintly, but he couldn't move, it was blocked out by the hell raging on in his mind.

"Do you think-"  
"This is maybe the seventh time you, asked, yes he'll be okay."  
"Are you sure? I can't have my beloved sidekick and C.C.O. in bad condition."  
"I'm sure, Fitzroy-"  
"Shh, shh, I think the boy's wakin' up."

Argo's eyes blinked open. He was no longer in hell, no longer crying, and he no longer felt like he was on fire. Argo felt safe, albiet so, so exhausted. He looked around, and saw Fitzroy sitting by his bed.

"Where...what happened?" Argo's voice was raspy and gravelly, his throat and head hurt—it was then that he realized his whole body hurt, he could barely feel his fingertips and toes.

"You had...uhm...a pretty bad experience in hell, like a huge panic attack and stuff. It was...pretty not good. How to you feel now?" Fitzroy explained the situation in a soft, almost motherly tone, his voice felt soft, it dripped like honey and lilted with a sweetness that eased Argo further. Fitzroy then reached forward and brushed Argo's hair away from his face, making Argo's stomach flip.

"I feel...better. M' in a lotta pain, ta be honest, but I'm not panickin' anymore."

"Here, you should drink some water," Fitzroy said, grabbing a styrofoam cup and handing it off to Argo, who sipped from it with weak, shaky hands.

Once the water was gone, Argo set the cup to the side, and turned his head to look at Fitzroy. 

"Ya look tired," Argo said, making Fitzroy quietly laugh. He loved that sound, it made his heart felt and his cheeks flush, not the mention the hand that continued to run through his hair.

"So do you," Fitzroy said, admiration lacing his tone.

Realuzation struck Argo. "Were ya waitin' by my bedside this whole time?"

Fitzroy shrugged. "I felt it was only appropriate, considering I needed to ensure your safety, as your C.E.O."

"Aw, ya didn't have ta do that, Fitz," Argo said, and Fitzroy grinned. There was a hint of confidence in that grin.

"Well I wasn't about to just leave you here to wake up alone after what was...well, a pretty bad panic attack."

"A'right, fair," Argo nodded in agreement.

They were silent for about a minute, and it was a comfortavle silence, the one where you didn't feek the need to hold your breath and tense up, it was an intimate silence that neither of them rushed to break.

Argo felt the need to break it first. "Thank ya, Fitz," he said, making Fitzroy's eyebrows raise in intrigue. 

"For what?" Fitzroy tilted his head, a grin making its way onto his face yet again, this time inquisitive.

"Fer stayin'."

Fitzroy's questioning look relaxed into a soft smile, a loving one, even.

"You're welcome, Argo."

Argo drifted off again, this time in a much more peaceful manner than last time.


End file.
